


Fair Wings, Dark Words

by Dracareesi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Artist Ramsay, Blood Play, Cutting, F/M, M/M, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Spanking, Spoilers for Book 3 - A Storm of Swords, Spoilers for Book 4 - A Feast for Crows, Spoilers for Book 5 - A Dance with Dragons, Winter, Writing on Skin, artist kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracareesi/pseuds/Dracareesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by Nj(nanjcsy) comment on 'Tough Lover'. I've tried to incorporate some plot into this one.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Nj(nanjcsy) comment on 'Tough Lover'. I've tried to incorporate some plot into this one.

Roose Bolton had established an alliance with the Lannisters and won himself the North, but the lions were not going to help him keep it. Despite its downfall, Northmen were loyal to Winterfell, only a Stark could bring them together and with Sansa Stark's disappearance, this was the only available choice. The girl had served his son loyally and for long enough to know the consequences of betrayal, she could be trusted. Theon Greyjoy had been broken down and rebuilt to obey, he would play his part. For any remaining rebellious Stark loyalists, Roose had a Frey army and his flaying knife.

Lord Bolton had never paid her much attention before. She was just another orphan of King's Landing. King Robert's revolution had cost many their homes and livelihoods, so they had tailed Eddard Stark's army back to the North to rebuild their lives. Noble Ned gave land and horses to farmers and distributed the orphans among his bannermen, to serve in their households. That was how she had arrived at the Dreadfort, having lost everything. Evidently, she had come a long way from there.

Northmen had set up camp in the ruins of Winterfell. Some of the towers of the age old castle had endured Ramsay's fire and they were tidied up for the lords and ladies of the various houses who were there to attend the wedding. From the windows of one of these towers, Myranda looked down at the preparations. The man she was to marry walked among the men giving instructions and charming high born knights and squires. She marveled at his ability to captivate people with his fabricated kindness and false compassion. The beast he truly was, was a sight reserved for victims.

The Godswood was untouched by snow and it betrayed the lie that everyone was trying so desperately to believe. The Starks were murdered but their weirwood lived on to tell the tale with its horrific face, eyes bleeding sap like Catelyn Stark's throat, leaves spasming like Lord Eddard's headless corpse. Winterfell had ghosts, Myranda could hear them whispering and dancing, mourning Arya Stark's wedding. Her unbreakable chains binding her to monsters. Monsters with power born of cruelty, treachery, malice and blood. Lady Arya Stark, soon to be Arya Bolton watched the first flakes of the snow storm fall from a desolate sky. The Starks may be dead and gone but they were right about one thing, winter is coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word travels.....

Varys always chose the table at the back of the inn. Nobody noticed him there in the shadows and his little birds could chirp in his ears as long as they wanted. Here's one now, the ragged little boy who's mother he had helped escape from the black cells at King's Landing, they had both worked for him since. He believed in mixing in kindness with money and that was the reason his little birds remained loyal even after Tyrion Lannister's escape had taken away his credibility. Varys was on the run now but he knew where he was headed.

"The wolf girl is to marry the Bolton bastard tomorrow at Winterfell." Nobody heard except the Spider and the boy vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

The former Master of whisperers had made sure the Iron Throne was defenseless by killing Kevan Lannister but the North still remained a challenge. If the Boltons had truly found Arya Stark then her marriage to Ramsay would hand the North to Roose Bolton. Stannis Baratheon marched to Winterfell, even as this happened, in the hopes of reclaiming the throne he believed he was entitled to. Varys mused at the strength of the illusion that power creates, the foolishness of men and the lives it costs. But he had his own part to play in the game of thrones so under a new face and a new name each day he rode on. To find and serve the true king of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon Targaryen.

 

 

Alayne's father had been very kind when he broke the news to her. He had kissed her in that way that he does and promised her revenge. He had held her as she cried, and reminded her that her path was already made for her and if she diverted, it could cost her everything. 

Sansa had changed. She didn't mind Petyr's kisses anymore, even enjoyed them sometimes. Watching Petyr charm his way up the ladder of chaos, she had come to learn that she was born to play same game. He had promised her the North as a wedding gift, all she had to do was wait. But the snotty, horse faced little brat named Arya was the only family she had left and no bastard was going to take her away. Only Alayne Stone could melt Petyr Baelish's resolve, so it was she who walked into her father's room to persuade him into a quicker plan of action, to fight for the life of Sansa's sister.

 

 

When Qyburn brought her the news, Cersei had been ecstatic. With her uncle dead and Jaime gone, she felt helpless and afraid, surrounded by Tyrells who wanted her son and Septas who wanted her soul. The Martell girl had taken over the small council and the Dornish have never loved Lannisters. After her spiritual cleansing, her fire had burnt out and she had no longer had the strength to live anticipating daggers hidden under every cloak. So she had been relieved to know that the Stark bitch was found. Roose Bolton was a trusted ally and he would soon have the North. The shadows that threatened her life and her son's were slowly fading away and Cersei drank in their surrender. This was a small victory but it was enough. Her lust for power had been sparked again and the lioness was growing her claws back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from the points of view of different people so most of the stuff is opinions and not every character is looking at things the way they actually are.


	3. Chapter 3

Reek hated Winterfell. It was always snowing and the kennels weren't as warm as those at the Dreadfort. His Master was always surrounded by high borns and he could never be Reek around them. He missed being petted and fed from his Master's plate. He missed running with his Master as he hunted, the hunts kept Ramsay occupied and Reek in one piece. But the reason he hated Winterfell the most was that it awakened Theon Greyjoy.

Seeing the castle he grew up in had flooded Theon with shame and anger. These towers echoed with the voices of those he had betrayed and with the condemnation of his own mind. He was Reek now, Ramsay's plaything, how many toes did he need to lose to understand that? But the heir of Balon Greyjoy and the Prince of Winterfell were great warriors. They weren't meek, bleak or weak, so they fought and they won. Reek was not killed though, he was a valuable asset, Ramsay trusted him and loved him. Reek protected Theon from Ramsay. But in the end he was a helpless pet and he had given himself over to a new master.

 

Lady Stark's handmaiden washed her hair as Arya herself soaked in the now lukewarm water. The scent of the mud brown hair dye she used filled the room. Myranda wanted the wedding to be perfect. Ramsay would not be happy at all if the Umbers rebelled because she hadn't done a good job in disguising the color of her hair. She would serve the Boltons well. She would be Arya Stark tomorrow, Eddard Stark's whelp with his brown hair on her head and his direwolf on her cloak.

She dosed off in the bath and dreamt a familiar dream. King's Landing was burning and she was terrified. Suddenly the eunuch was there, he picked up and took her away. She could think of no reason for this kindness but she accepted it all the same. He took her to the frail old woman. She remembered that smell that filled the air as the woman bathed her and dressed her. "You look like all the other urchins at Flea Bottom now, and that after a bath", she had cackled with laughter, but Myranda couldn't think why she would look any different from all the other children. 

 

Ramsay was frustrated with everything. His father was Lord of the Dreadfort and his word was law but Ramsay didn't understand the need to bring Myranda into this. He could've picked any other whore but it had to be her. Ramsay knew what was expected of him. He was to put up a show for these savage Northmen, he was to be a doting husband to Ned Stark's little girl until his father could gain the favor of the Tyrells and some more Lannister gold. He also knew that women were stupid, if pampered enough they would soon forget their place. He had foreseen the need to discipline his wife which was why he was disappointed it would be Myranda. It would have been so much more entertaining to train his young bride with her assistance. But his father was stubborn and now he would have to flay his best whore, it really was a shame.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding

As Ramsay and Myranda became two hearts that beat as one under the sacred weirwood that had watched over the Starks, Theon started to lose faith in himself. Ever since he subdued Reek he had looked for ways to escape but there was always that one obstacle, where would he run to? The only family he had was thousands of leagues away and he had lost his only friend when he betrayed Robb Stark. He knew he couldn't get as far as the sea in weather like this and he didn't dare think about what would happen if he was caught. Reek constantly whispered in his ear that he would get caught. There was no evading Ramsay, he was a born hunter. How was a cripple to outrun the man who burnt down the heart of the North?

The newly weds now walked among the guests receiving gifts and congratulations as they made their way to the feast. Theon was seated at the main table with the Boltons and the other lords and he carefully watched the new Lady Bolton. Myranda was a wonderful actress. Even as she smiled and entertained she managed to bring a sadness to her eyes that one would expect to find in the real Arya Stark's. Reek loathed Myranda, his Master was always crueler in her presence. Theon only saw in her what he had always seen in girls, their tits. So when the Arya Bolton asked him for a dance her graciously accepted, ignoring Reek's hysterics.

The Frey musicians were terrible as usual but dancing gave him back the feeling of being human again. Theon didn't need Reek to tell him he was going to pay for this later but he enjoyed the feeling while it lasted. "Ramsay wants you in our chambers right after the bedding ceremony. Make sure you leave Lord Greyjoy at the door," there was a cruelty in her voice that would've put the Mad King to shame. "You don't want to be reminded again that all this was for the crowd's benefit, do you?" She floated elegantly away to dance with a Manderly, leaving him sinking in familiar terror.

Roose was quite satisfied with the proceedings, he had joined his bastard in matrimony to the last living Stark and now Winterfell was his. The Warden of the North was close enough to happy to even take a sip of the wine in front of him. House Bolton had risen high but the sweetest fruit was still just an inch beyond his reach. But he knew the wait wasn't long, Cersei Lannister was a foolish slut who trusted him beyond reason and the Tyrells would fall as soon as the Queen of Thorns was dead. He could almost smell the stench of both their heads rotting on spikes under the fluttering banners of the Flayed Man of Dreadfort high above the Red Keep.

"The bedding! The bedding!", screamed Little Walder Frey and the crowd bellowed in approval. 

There weren't many highborn ladies so the common harlots took charge of Ramsay, who laughed and joked as they undressed him. Arya maintained all the dignity of a lady when the younger Freys and Karstarks came for her. No Manderly or Umber was seen trying to grope Eddard Stark's daughter. Roose knew he still had some work left to do here. The North was won but all the Northmen were not.


	5. Chapter 5

Arya sat at the edge of the bed where the men had put her till everyone had left. She looked at her feet and didn't say a word, her face bore all the embarrassment a well bred woman would feel on being delivered naked to her husband by his friends. But as soon as the door shut after the last drunk wedding guest, Myranda returned. She got off the bed immediately and looked up at him through her lashes, waiting for a command.

"You are lovely, Lady Bolton", he said uttering the title with mocking emphasis. Ramsay walked towards her slowly and took her face in his hands. He kissed her with an unexpected softness and lured her in. She kissed him back with a moan that echoed her relief at the thought that she had pleased him. He allowed her a moment's false hope before wrapping his hand around her throat. He pressed down on her wind pipe as he ran his tongue over the inside of her mouth and drank in the soft choking noises she made.

Myranda's lungs started to burn but she suppressed the urge to fight back. She knew this was a test and she did not intend to give Ramsay a reason to punish her. When he finally pulled back and let her breathe again, she saw the disguised disappointment in his eyes. Her savage love for pain was what had drawn Ramsay to her and she would gladly have let him hurt her but Myranda knew that this time, it was more than just a game. If Roose Bolton were to find her incompetent in any way, it would mean her life. So she submitted to Ramsay's every will and denied him his entertainment.

"Father has no doubt informed you that I will not be spending the night here," he said, turning away from her to pour himself a glass of wine. "You are to stay in these chambers all night, no matter what happens. It will be quite a lively night so I suggest you shut the windows and lock the door." He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. He knocked a few things over as he got dressed. His frustration was apparent. "Do not try to do anything stupid, my lovely wife. I don't take kindly to disobedience", he said, his menacing grey eyes searching hers to find any excuse to discipline her but Myranda only nodded and looked down. Ramsay slammed the door and stormed off in silent annoyance, he hoped the rest of the night would go a little more the way he had expected it to.

Reek waited in the great hall until the bedding ceremony was over. As the guests staggered back to the feast, Reek hobbled out of the hall and made his way to the hidden passage that led to Ramsay's chamber. He knew he was supposed to enter his lord's chamber without anybody seeing him. The secret route went up a ladder in the castle wall which opened beside Ramsay's fireplace. Reek tried to be fast but his missing toes meant that he kept slipping and losing balance. As he struggled up the last rung of the ladder he heard the door of his master's bedchamber being slammed and realized the truth too late.

Myranda opened the secret door in the wall and smiled down at Reek with all her innate malice. Lack of baths and living in the kennels made him filthy but the only thing she smelled on him was fear, it was that stink that let her know he there. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into the room. Throwing him on his back, she shoved her foot in his mouth before he could cry out. 

"Tsk tsk tsk, little Reek, don't make a sound. You don't want to make me angry do you?", her voice was like a sweet poison that spreads like the warmth of a winter sun all over you body before turning into a fire. Reek whimpered and shook and whimpered again. She removed her foot from his mouth and knelt next to him, basking in the beauty of every glorious tremble. She ran her hand through his hair and over his face.

"Your Master isn't here Reek but I am his Lady now and you must be as loyal to me as you are to him. You will be loyal? Won't you Reek?"  
"Yes, yes good Reek, loyal Reek. Loyal to Master, loyal to m'lady."

"Good little pet. Now get off the floor and go sit on the bed."  
Reek was shocked but too afraid to disobey. His fear only worsened as he watched Myranda move towards him. The last time he had seen her naked he had lost his cock, and back then she had only been Ramsay's whore. Now she was his wife and Reek feared for his head. 

Myranda lay Reek down on the bed and straddled him, enjoying the fear that she felt building inside him. The castle was suddenly alive with commotion. Men shouted and women shrieked. Swords clashed with shields and the sound of battle surrounded them. Myranda placed her knees on either side of Reek's head and lowered herself onto his face. 

"Lick me", she commanded as the screams of dying men filled the night. Reek was paralyzed by fear of the sounds he was hearing and the unshakable feeling that Ramsay would burst through the door at any moment. He shook his head and pleaded to be let go. Myranda grabbed his hair with both her hands and brought his face inches from hers.  


"Lick me or I will have him cut out your tongue and nail it to the wall", she whispered. The madness and barbarity in her eyes was one only her victims saw before they died. Reek had seen it in Ramsay's eyes before and he knew it was no empty threat.

Myranda bathed in the music of death that the walls echoed. She felt Reek on her cunt. His hot breath was full of fear, his tongue quivered and his lips begged for mercy as they kissed her lower lips. The howls of dying men rang in her ears as she rode his mouth. Even as Ramsay's blade sliced through Wyman Manderly's throat and every White Harbour man was slaughtered, Myranda peaked and screamed and screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

Petyr Baelish made for Winterfell with a party of fifty fighting men, half of whom were dressed as man servants, and one brown haired bastard girl disguised as a boot boy. Alayne had done her job well. Baelish was no fool but he didn't have the heart to refuse his daughter anything. They both knew they didn't have an army strong enough to storm the castle and even if they had, Littlefinger would've insisted on subtlety. He was a man who had used his mind and his tongue to meet his ends and they had never disappointed him. They would steal Arya away with not a soul being the wiser and when it was all done, the Vale would still be aligned with the Dreadfort, assisting them in the search for their missing lady.

Petyr was taking every necessary precaution. As much as he wanted her to share his litter, Alayne had to ride to avoid suspicion. Littlefinger did not think Roose Bolton a foolish man but he had outwitted many a clever lord before. He had cheated and tricked his way to his selfish ends before but this time it was for Alayne. For her soft, firm breasts and the warmth of her touch. Catelyn faded a away a little more each time he entered Alayne's sweet wetness and each time she cried out his name. Sansa had tamed the fire in her hair and the Stark in her heart to become his and Petyr would risk anything to give her what she wanted.

Winterfell was chaotic with activity. Every low born hand was put to work in the preparations to greet the Lord Protector of the Vale. While some slaughtered horses for the feast, others scrubbed Manderly blood off the walls and still others burnt the dead after looting their possessions. Ramsay had been shut up in his father's private quarters with Lady Dustin all morning and Reek had been forgotten. So Theon snuck away from the pandemonium and made his way to the Godswood without being noticed. He hobbled to the weirwood and knelt in front of it. Regret filled him again but it was not the knife in his heart that it used to be. Regret washed over him like a soothing wave of seawater, reminding him that Theon Greyjoy was alive. Reek would not rue failing Robb Stark, Reek had never known him. The kraken could feel anger and shame and sorrow. Reek felt only adoration and fear, the former for his master and the latter for his mistress.

Whispering voices brought him out of his trance. Theon jumped up and hid behind the huge white tree and sank to the ground in tears and shivered as Reek returned. As the voices drew closer he heard her speaking but didn't understand her words. Reek's mind drowned in paralyzingly terror. His mistress was very cruel and she didn't love him like his master did. Reek had been a foolish pet and told his master about the wedding night, he had heard Myranda's screams from the kennels and rejoiced. But she had made him pay for that. She had taken Master from him. Ramsay had watched and laughed as she peeled the skin off his bottom. It was only a little bit and Master had been kind and burnt it off after a few hours but Reek had learnt.

Myranda spoke to the other voice for a short while and then they parted ways, but Reek was too absorbed in fear to notice anything. He stayed in his hiding place long after the voices were gone and only made his way back to the castle when the bells announced the midday meal. As he walked to the hall on unsteady feet, he saw her. She was her usual charming self as she tousled the unkempt hair of a washerwoman's daughter. The little girl handed her a small brown package that she accepted with all her ladylike grace and gave to her handmaiden for safekeeping. Theon was disgusted at how much goodwill Arya Stark's name bestowed upon this vicious and unworthy whore. He swore to himself that at the end of this nightmare, when he took back Winterfell for Robb, he would give her to the Drowned God.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is an artist in his own way.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in update. Blame the education system :P

Arya was talking to the little Walders Frey when Damon came to summon her to Ramsay. The sly smile on his face told her that it was nothing good. She was a persuasive woman, so skillful that she had talked Ramsay into letting her use his pet, but she knew him to be more unpredictable than the winds of winter. Obedience was the key, Ramsay would be anything she needed him to as long as he believed he was in control. She entered the bedchamber with her head down and spoke, addressing only the part of Ramsay that craved submission.

"You called for me, my Lord?"

Ramsay smiled his most enchanting smile and for a moment Myranda was fooled, for the briefest of moments, she thought she had finally made him love her. But that foolish thought was gone as soon as it came because Ramsay uttered that cursed name.

"Lady Arya", he said. "I fear I have been inexcusably rude", the threat resounded in every syllable. Fear trickled down her spine with a bead of sweat. "I am deeply sorry, my lovely lady. I have neglected you." Nobody would doubt the sincerity in his words, but Myranda had only to look at his eyes to know the truth. 

"Damon, please leave us, and make sure we are not interrupted. Tonight, I have eyes only for Lady Bolton." Damon snorted in amusement, winked at Myranda and walked off. She knew he would be stationed right outside, Ramsay rewarded his faithful servant by letting him hear the whores scream and beg.

Ramsay poured himself a glass of wine and sighed as if he were about to discipline a willful child for the umpteenth time. "I saw you in the Godswood today." Myranda's heart was in her throat. "Talking to some wandering washerwoman as if you really were noble Ned Stark's noble daughter. I hear her daughter gifted you a corset. Oh how the people love their Starks! But you're not a Stark are you? Have you forgotten who you are Myranda? Does my whore need to be reminded of her place?" His tone was one she had heard him use with his wretched creature, but there was no warmth in it now, no hint of a hidden fondness. The side of Ramsay she had been trying to evade had finally caught her.

"My Lord, the washerwoman....", Myranda stopped suddenly, shocked at her own audacity. Ramsay noticed and smiled mockingly, "Go on sweetling", he said.

"My Lord, the washerwoman travels in search of work. She was to start for King's Landing today and she has promised to be back in Winterfell in two months with a few things of necessity." 

"And what are these things you deem necessary?" Ramsay sounded amused.

"Moon-tea, my lord. And the brown hair dye from Lys." She could barely keep the quiver out of her voice.

"Moon tea? Why would you need Moon-tea?" He growled.

His face contorted in rage, Ramsay walked to her and grabbed her by the hair. She begged for mercy as he dragged her across the room. Her vision was blurred by tears and terror and it was not until she felt it that she realized. Ramsay proceeded to strap her limbs one by one as she screamed her lungs out and pleaded for forgiveness. Myranda's mind was gripped by panic. She wasn't supposed to be here, she had once hunted whores with him. But Arya Stark had tricked her and now she was bound to the same cross on which Theon Greyjoy became Reek.

"So you would kill my heir, you treacherous little whore?"

"My lord, your father...", Myranda's world went black for a moment and then she felt the pain. Her mouth filled with blood and a broken tooth dug into her tongue. She tried to look up or say something but her jaw wouldn't move. 

"Yes I know what my father said you stupid bitch. Your eyes and hair are the wrong color and he doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of the Lannisters. All he wants is the kingdom, but that will be mine after he is dead and my son's after me. I will not have some brown haired street urchin inherit my lands because my father is a stubborn......." Myranda lost consciousness as Ramsay ranted on. She woke with his flaying knife digging into her chin.

"Bored are we?" Ramsay cooed. She tried to say with her eyes what her mouth couldn't. She begged for mercy, promised loyalty and desperately searched for her lost friend in the face of the monster before her. He ignored her and ran the knife threateningly down her throat without ever drawing blood.

"I think you've heard quite enough about Moon-tea. It is time we tended to Lady Arya." Myranda found herself lost in pain and fear as Ramsay brought out the beautiful leather corset that the washerwoman's daughter had given her. It was laced up at the back and on the sides. The breasts were lined with complex patterns and down the front was an intricately designed direwolf growling with silent power. Myranda hoped and prayed that he hadn't found what had been wrapped up inside it.

"It is a rather beautiful gift. Just one little change to be made. I expect you'll look lovely in it." He had turned into the man his victims knew him to be. The Bolton bastard, tormentor, hunter and master. He set the corset on a chair beside him and got to work on her body. Myranda screamed and begged as Ramsay's knife drew every lace and flower with an artist's precision. Blood trickled down her body like a thousand red rivers, every time a drop rolled down to where Ramsay was working, he would cluck and brush it off before continuing. She remembered the day he had revealed his artistic gift to her. He had perfectly replicated the Dreadfort on the dirt at edge of the castle grounds away from the disapproving stare of his father. He had allowed her to watch as he carefully drew every last rock and brick of the castle in the sand and now he used the same skill to carve the Flayed Man onto her belly.

"Oh foolish Myranda, you should just have stayed my whore." Ramsay licked up a drop of blood that flowed down her breast and returned to sigil. "Now you've given me so many problems. Don't you think the people will ask questions about why Arya Stark wants Moon-tea, and brown hair dye? What will father say then?" He looked up at her blank eyes for a moment, then went back to work. "But don't you worry my little whore, I'll take care of it. I will talk to father, the washerwoman will be dead tomorrow and you will live to serve me another day."Ramsay took a step back to admire his work and smiled like a little boy on his name day. "Why my Lady Arya, don't you look exquisite in red!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about the super late update but I finally wrote another chapter. Enjoy!

Baelish arrived the next day with his party and Roose Bolton greeted him with the usual lack of warmth. The former Master of Coin was quite used to lords and ladies and their peculiarities, he fed on their vanity and made his name at their cost. The feast to be held in his honor that night, provided a more convenient situation than he had expected. Petyr had thought it unlikely but gold and power had convinced even Roose Bolton to show off. He walked with Lord Bolton, being brought up to speed on what he said were his plans for the future. The more he saw of the fallen castle and its desolation, the more he wished he had spared his sweet Sansa the pain of seeing it this way.

Myranda desperately clung on to the edge of the bed as Ramsay pounded her. He had woken her at the crack of dawn and descended on her with a tremendous rage. He forced himself inside her even as he scratched and clawed at the barely formed scars of his blood corset. Myranda let out sounds of distress and pain enough to keep him happy but the maester had given her milk of the poppy, the previous night and it's effects still lingered. With a foggy mind and dulled senses she felt Ramsay release his seed in her while he kept repeating that she would give him an heir whether she wanted to or not. 

She whimpered and cringed as he pulled her up by the hair to face him. 

"A few broken teeth make for a prettier whore, I think", he said, smiling maliciously. "Certainly a more respectful one, wouldn't you say Lady Arya?"

"I'm Myranda, my lord. Your whore, only your whore." Myranda's voice shook, her legs were unsteady and barely able to hold her up. She dared to slowly looked up and meet his eye, she still believed she would find her friend and lover in the depths of that icy grey. Ramsay raised an eyebrow at her audacity and slapped her across the face. As pain shot up her face Myranda felt hope slowly ebbing away, her eyes burned and for the first time in her life she let the tears fall.

There was a knock on the door and Damon's gruff voice announced that Lord Bolton had summoned them both to his chambers. Roose had been made aware of Myranda's injuries as soon as Ramsay had come to his senses. His father's anger had only served to aggravate him further and his wife had paid the price once again. After Roose had finished accusing his son of being utterly incapable, incompetent and stupid, the decision was made. Lady Arya wouldn't be able to attend the feast but she would meet The Lord of the Vale as soon as the maester could get rid of the bruise on her face. It would only arouse suspicion if Baelish had to leave without having seen the new lady of Bolton.

Myranda covered her face with scarf and timidly followed her husband. She walked awkwardly trying not to let the fabric of her clothes touch her wounds. They entered Lord Bolton's chambers and found him in deep thought. He gave Myranda a quick glance and turned to his son, making no attempt to hide his disapproval of her condition and his disgust at Ramsay's lack of restraint. When he spoke, his tone demanded compliance without questioning.

"Baelish has arrived. I see an ally in him. He must see the extent of our power, and he must see the Greyjoy boy. It will give him the impression we have the Iron Islands at our command and there is nothing he craves more than powerful friends."  
"His name is Reek, father." Ramsay's patience was running thin.  
Roose gave his son a contemptuous look."Theon Greyjoy must be at the feast tonight. I trust you will make all the arrangements."  
"He is not Theon a Greyjoy!! His name is Reek!!" Ramsay shouted and Myranda flinched.  
"I trust you will make the arrangements", Roose said flatly.  
"Yes, father", Ramsay said after a long pause, still trembling with rage.  
"You will not leave your chambers tonight, unless I call for you myself." Roose said to Myranda. "You are to see nobody and nobody is to see you. Your handmaiden will be serving guests but the maester will come to tend to you."

Roose dismissed them and Ramsay stormed out with Myranda trailing after him. The milk of the poppy was wearing off and she felt more of the pain with every step. Ramsay was agitated, angry and dangerous, she feared him. He stopped her outside their chambers and shoved her up against the wall without warning, knocking her breath out.

"Go to the kennels and tell Reek he is expected at the feast tonight. Then tell one of the servants to get him cleaned and ready after that come back here and do not leave. If you go anywhere other than that or talk to anybody unnecessarily, I'll make you beg for my flaying knife." He released her and let her fall to the ground. He watched as she struggled to her feet and staggered away in a haste to escape his threatening eyes.

Sansa kept her head down as she walked through the familiar halls that were now in ruin. Anger and sadness boiled her blood but she knew if she was to have her vengeance she would need to leave Winterfell alive and with her sister. Petyr had forethought, he would give her back her home and also her revenge, all she had to do was be patient. So she spent the day doing the odd jobs boot boys were expected to do and she watched, she listened. Arya wasn't to the be at the feast tonight so she could smuggle her sister out without being noticed. Once she made it to the outer gate, they would be free. Petyr had arranged for a rider to guide them back to the Vale and keep them hidden. After the Red Keep, escaping from her old home wouldn't be very difficult.

Myranda was blinded by tears as she made her way to the kennels. She couldn't begin to comprehend why Ramsay preferred a coward and turn cloak over than her. She found Reek curled up in a corner with his filthy rags, the hounds liked him so he wasn't as lonely as he had been. But he would be removed from the kennels if Ramsay knew he was beginning to find comfort there. Myranda smiled sweetly at him, the smile that had taught him to expect pain in the near future. She basked in the fear that shone in his eyes.

"Lord Bolton wants you at the feast tonight." Reek looked up at her, astonished, but didn't dare to speak. His mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water and Myranda knew what she had to do.  
"Yes Reek, your master wants you at the feast. You want to make him happy don't you?", she said, running her fingers through his dirt caked hair as Reek nodded fervently. "Master wants you bathed and dressed and looking like a prince."  
"I'm not a prince, I'm Reek, my name is Reek",while the pathetic creature panicked and sobbed Myranda found herself short of patience.  
"Quiet! Damon will get you ready for the feast and you will do as I tell you." She slapped him but regretted it the same moment when the wounds across her body screamed in protest at the movement. "Now listen, you are to pretend to be Prince a Theon Greyjoy again." Myranda loved to watch the sheer terror that gripped him at the mention of that name. "Theon Greyjoy is a prince, he has no master, he does as he pleases, you will not be a pet at the feast. You will be seated with Ramsay, Lord Bolton and Lord Baelish, now I want to you listen very carefully Reek, this part is very important." She looked at the sad face of this broken animal and relished the thought of what she was about to bring down upon him. "Lord Baelish is a bad man and we must not let him hurt Ramsay. So I want you to do something for me, pet." Reek listened intently.  
"After you have met Lord Baelish you are to throw your wine at him." She barely kept herself from laughing as she said this. Reek's expression turned to one of utter shock and Myranda kept going. "After you have done that you are to come straight to my bed chambers. Master will yell but you are to ignore him."  
"Disobey Master? No, no! Good Reek! Good Reek!" he shrieked as he rolled around searching for some comfort in the dirt.  
Myranda's face turned stony and her voice grew dangerously cold. "Are you going to disobey me, Reek? Don't you remember what I told you on my wedding night? Master would do terrible things to you if I asked him to. Do you remember what I said would happen to your tongue?" She watched his inner struggle as he weighed Ramsay's anger against her threats. "Reek will obey m'lady. Loyal Reek," he sobbed. "And don't you dare tell Master like you did last time. You remember what that got you, don't you?" Reek cried and nodded. She smiled at him again, hiding her malice this time. "I knew you were a good pet," she said stroking his hair and petting him, watching him melt in her fabricated warmth. Myranda left satisfied, since she couldn't make Ramsay love her, she would make him hate his repulsive pet.


	9. Chapter 9

The maids bathed him and dressed him in the majestic colors of the kraken but Reek didn't like pretending to be a prince. He was always afraid the prince would show himself. Only Reek knew Theon was still alive and he shivered at the thought of what his Master would do if he found out. Reek was afraid of his mistress, but there is no one in the world he loved more than Master. It broke his heart to think how hurt Master would be if his Reek betrayed him. He would never cause Master any pain, no matter how much that dreadful woman threatened him. Reek wouldn't throw the wine, he wouldn't embarrass Master, certainly not in front of his father. He would bear all the punishment Myranda chose to inflict but he couldn't bear to make his Master hate him.

Looking into the mirror, he saw that Theon Greyjoy had found his body again, and slowly he felt him creeping back into his mind as well. Reek ignored him and hobbled along to find his mistress, he was told to see her before he left for the feast. He knew she would threaten him again and try to frighten him but he was determined to be loyal to his Master.

Sansa looked up from her work for just a moment and that was when she saw him. Theon Greyjoy, parading around in his black and gold finery in the fallen castle of the man he had betrayed. She watched him with disgust and thought of the various ways she would make him pay for what he had done to her brother. She noticed he was limping and thanked the Seven for their contribution but asked for the strength to exact vengeance of her own. She would bat her eyelashes at Petyr and he would give her what she needed. Sansa would bring ruin down upon the Greyjoy filth. 

Myranda saw in his eyes that Reek didn't intend to obey her, the pathetic little thing loved his Master too much. But her years with Ramsay had taught her how to be persuasive. She knew that soft words would succeed where threats failed so presently she smiled her most compassionate smile and reached out a kindly hand to stroke his freshly washed hair.

"You won't forget you're not a prince, will you?", she said imitating Ramsay's manner. Reek only recognized the comforting familiarity. "No m'lady, I'm Reek, I'll always remember." It was apparent that Reek still was true to his Master so Myranda sighed sadly and said, "Reek, I know you would rather not do what I asked of you but you must. Petyr Baelish is a wicked man and he is going to hurt your Master. I didn't tell you the reason before because I expected you to be a good pet and obey me without question. Baelish plans to kill Lord Bolton and capture Ramsay, I overheard him talking with his men. No no no, don't you worry pet, I have a scheme to thwart him but you must play your part in it. You must throw the wine Reek, for Master's sake." Myranda spun tall tales and watched him eat it all out of her hand. By the time she had finished the stupid creature was angry and determined to protect his Master.

Ramsay had spent the entire day being belittled by his father in front of their guest. He was humiliated and angry and his only consolation was that at the feast, his pet would be proof of his capabilities. Reek was dressed again as Theon Greyjoy but Ramsay did not have to do much more than look in his eyes to know that his pet knew his place. He gave Reek an encouraging smile which he shyly returned. Theon sat at the main table next to Ramsay, opposite to Lord Bolton and Lord Baelish. The night went on merrily as the men from the Vale ate and drank with the Northmen. Soon Ramsay began to enjoy himself, he flirted with the serving wenches and had his dogs brought in for the men's entertainment. He howled and cheered as the dogs fought over bones and lightly teased Reek as he struggled to chew with barely any teeth.

"Why are you still so far away from home, Lord Greyjoy?", Baelish asked Theon, his voice laced with mockery. "Eddard Stark is dead, you are a hostage no longer."

"Lord Bolton and Ramsay are our friends. I am here to serve them in battle against Stannis Baratheon." Theon answered with a steely voice. Ramsay watched with pride as Reek answered every question like he had been taught. Nobody other than Ramsay could ever tell that it was Reek and not Theon Greyjoy.

"We will make great progress as allies and I am pleased to call myself a friend of House Bolton", Baelish said raising his glass. Roose nodded and gave Ramsay a look that resembled the ghost of a smile.  
"May our allegiance prevail," Ramsay said joining the toast. He was too pleased with his father's approval to notice that his pet's hands shook as he raised his glass and was shocked more than anyone when he heard Reek's voice ring through the hall.  
"You are wicked man Baelish", he screamed, emptying the wine glass on the face of their honored guest. 

Ramsay stood confounded as his father dignifiedly apologized to Baelish and shot his son a dirty look. Reek had slammed his glass on the table and headed towards the door. "Come back here this instant", Ramsay bellowed when he regained his senses, his face contorted and his hands trembling with rage. But Reek walked out of the hall without a second look at his Master.


End file.
